


Merry, Magical

by Jinxgirl



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2759585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinxgirl/pseuds/Jinxgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rachel Berry inadvertently destroys Santana's belief in Santa Claus, Brittany attempts to show her the truth of Christmas magic. Kid fic, semi companion to Who you are is not where you've been (you're still an innocent).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry, Magical

It wasn’t unusual for Santana Lopez to find it difficult to sit still in school. Although she knew that as a first grader, she was supposed to be much more grown up than the kindergarteners, and she knew she WAS- after all, she didn’t hide in the corner sucking her thumb and crying all the time like that Asian Tina little girl did, and she didn’t have to have her mami come in and help her do stuff like that little boy in the wheelchair with glasses did. She was way, way more grown up than all of those silly little babies and all the kids in her class too. Why else would her papi have bought her a purse AND lip gloss last year even though Santana didn’t even want to use it because it made her want to eat her own lips and the purse got in the way of running and climbing trees and chasing boys (even if it was very useful for whacking them with)?

The problem was that the grown ups thought that just because you were almost all the way grown up when you were six, you were supposed to want to be good all the time and sit down and sit still and do all the boring work that they wanted you to. But even though Santana guessed she could do that, if she really wanted to, most of the time she just didn’t. Sometimes she tried to be good, but it seemed like every time she was trying really, really hard, her best friend in the whole wide world, Brittany, would do something funny to make her laugh, or Noah Puckerman would pull her hair and poke her in the back and make her mad, or Finn Hudson would do something so dumb she couldn’t even help but make fun of him, and she would get in trouble all over again. So most of the time, to Santana, it just didn’t even seem worth it to try.

And when it was only two days until Christmas break from school and she could go home and spend more time with her mami and get all her presents when Santa Claus came? Well, there was obviously not any chance at all that for the next two days, Santana was going to feel like sitting still, doing her work, and making any effort to be good.

It seemed that her teacher had long ago tried, earlier this week, to expect this of the children anymore, and she had in fact ended her lesson today early and given the children instead a task to make Christmas drawings, cards, and decorations. Santana had slapped her own drawing together with great haste and little interest, completely ignoring Rachel Berry’s impassioned protest to their teacher that as a Jewish member of the classroom, although her daddy was indeed Christian and she respected the traditional Christian holiday of Christmas, she certainly felt that she should equally represent her Jewish heritage by also creating Jewish related art, and shouldn’t their classroom’s décor and assignments also reflect Rachel’s diversity?

Or something like that. Santana never listened when Rachel Berry started throwing around big words like that which were totally boring; actually, the only time she listened to Rachel Berry was when the other little girl was doing something so dumb that Santana just had to make fun of her. That was something that happened a lot too.

Having finished her drawing of reindeer- which consisted of several fast drawings of stick-like brown figures with red circles at their noses- Santana wiggled and squirmed in her seat, leaning over to inspect Brittany’s artwork. Instead of rapidly scribbling down the first thing that came to mind, anxious to have it over with as fast as possible, Brittany was taking her time to make her own creation, her brow furrowed slightly, her tongue sticking out between her teeth with her concentration as she carefully outlined and colored in her own rendition of a Santa Claus. Brittany was a good artist, and she was REALLY good with crayons. She liked using them more than paint or clay or anything else that was way messier and to Santana, therefore way more fun, and Santana leaned her elbow on her shoulder, watching her with squirmy interest.

“That’s good, Brittany. That’s really good. You draw so good, how come I can’t draw that good? Can you draw me a Santa too?”

“Sure, Sanny,” Brittany smiled, and she carefully began to draw another Santa next to the first. 

Still frequently squirming and wiggling in her seat, unable to contain her restless excitement, Santana beamed, dimples flickering into view as she saw the figure take shape on the page. When Brittany drew the Santas holding hands, Santana giggled, finding this very funny, though she couldn’t have explained why. And when Brittany carefully labeled the Santas, in two inch, badly wobbling, and often backwards or upside down letters “Brittany Claus and Santana Claus,” Santana broke out laughing with delight.

“You made the Santas US! Santa isn’t a GIRL!”

“He might be,” Brittany said seriously, giving Santana a wide smile and nod. “Even if he does have beards. His jacket might hide his boobies. It could be a clever trick.”

Santana laughed loudly again at this, delighted at the possibility. This was one of the many things the loved about Brittany, that the other little girl saw things in such a different, creative, and completely endearing way than everyone else. She wrapped her arms around Brittany and snuggled her head down against the other girl’s shoulder, still giggling lightly as she looked down at the drawing.

“I never saw a man wear shiny red clothes before. Maybe you’re right!”

“I wanna be Santa Claus when I grow up,” Brittany said seriously, smiling back at Santana and affectionately stroking the other child’s hair with the hand not clutching her crayon. “It would be a very good job. We can make all the children happy giving them toys, we can have pet polar bears, and we can tell all the elves what to do. Plus we would get cookies all the time, and we can always make snow angels and snow men whenever we want.”

Santana squeezed Brittany excitedly at this thought, it having never occurred to her before as a possibility. She nodded enthusiastically, her voice getting faster with her anticipation of this new and glorious future plan.

“Yes!!! I wanna make all the elves make me all kinds of toys. And I wanna give coal to all the kids who are stupid! And I wanna pet the reindeer and fly them all around even when it’s not Christmas yet!”

“And we can go all over the world whenever we want,” Brittany reminded her, nodding. “And we can probably have a pet unicorn too.”

Then she frowned, concerned. “Do you think it’s too cold for unicorns in the North Pole?”

“We can keep them inside,” Santana assured her. She was beaming, her dark eyes bright with anticipation as she continued to think through this new dream. “We can do whatever we want if we’re gonna be Santa Claus. We’ll be magic. We can probably even fly, and we can go down everyone’s chimneys and not even get dirty, and we can-“

“No you can’t, Santana,” came an all too earnest and reasonable voice from their left, and even before Santana turned her head to look at her, she was already tensing up against Brittany, her back teeth grinding in irritation at the this intrusion in her moments of glory. “Of course you can’t do any of those things.”

It was Rachel Berry making those comments, Rachel Berry who seemed to think that her input was welcome. Turning her head to glare at her fiercely, Santana countered, “I can too! I can and I’m gonna and you aren’t, just me and Brittany. So there! And when we’re Santas, Rachel Berry, you aren’t gonna get ANY toys from us. We’re just gonna give you CLOTHES.”

To Santana, this was the worst of all possible Christmas gifts to receive. Even as she looked Rachel over pointedly, taking in her long plaid kneesocks, her loose green dress, with a Scottish terrier on the front, and her little green matching beret, she giggled, seeing the irony in her choice of punishment for the other little girl.

“You better hope Santa Claus does too ‘cause your clothes are dumb.”

“Yeah,” added Brittany, nodding emphatically from beside Santana. Although she herself rarely was rude to other children, she would sometimes back Santana up in her efforts, and with Rachel sneering at their decision to be Santa Clauses when they grew up, it seemed that she had decided that this particular occasion called for a little meanness towards her. She frowned at Rachel, tightening her grip around Santana’s shoulders as the other little girl continued to address them seriously, not seeming bothered at all by their standoffish demeanors towards her.

“Of course Santa Claus won’t give me anything, even clothing, but my fathers certainly will. They do every year and I’m sure they will this year as well.”

But Brittany looked horrified by this revelation, her blue eyes growing wide, and she looked at Santana with something bordering on awe and fear. Santana herself was taken aback, her dark eyebrows raising almost to her forehead as she blurted out what Brittany seemed to be thinking.

“Why?! Are you THAT bad?!”

If Rachel Berry, who was such a teacher’s pet and rule-follower in the classroom, was bad enough that Santa wouldn’t give her any presents, then how did Santana herself have any hope?  
Santana began to worriedly think through all the various misdeeds she had gotten herself into over the past year. Just how many of them did Santa know about? Was he always watching or did he only pop in sometimes to check? Did he communicate with God, who her abuela said was ALWAYS watching? What if he and God talked and God decided she was too bad of a little girl to get any presents?

For a moment her heart beat fast, anxiety bringing her close to tears, but then a new thought struck her, and she breathed a sigh of relief, reaching for Brittany’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly before she addressed Rachel with renewed confidence. 

“I got it! Santa doesn’t give YOU presents ‘cause you don’t believe in Jesus! And you can’t be Santa when you grow up because of that! So ha, you’re wrong, we can too be Santa and we’re gonna get lots of good presents and you won’t!”

“But you’re very wrong, Santana,” Rachel insisted, taking a step closer to the other girl, her eyes wide with her over-sincerity. She was invading Santana’s personal space now, and only the fact that one of Santana’s arms was around Brittany’s shoulders and her hand was in Brittany’s with her other arm kept her from instinctively reaching out to push her hard in the chest. “I’m not bad at all. My conduct is impeccable both at school and at home and in temple as well. If I were to be judged by my behavior in order to determine whether I would receive gifts I would certainly qualify. But that isn’t how it works so in the end it doesn’t actually matter how one behaves so far as gift receiving is determined. And my religious beliefs have nothing to do with my lack of belief in the myth of Santa Claus, one can have differing religious beliefs and still mistakenly believe in the reality of Santa Claus. However I am simply more accurately informed than most children our age and I understand that the story of Santa Claus is simply untrue.”

Santana exchanged a puzzled glance with Brittany, then a suspicious one towards Rachel, untangling finally from Brittany to turn towards Rachel, arms crossed over her chest, chin lifted defiantly.

“What’s not true?”

“Well, all of it, of course. Certainly all the plans that you and Brittany believe to be possible,” Rachel shrugged, beginning to enumerate them, and going so far as to tick them off on her fingers. “The North Pole is largely unlivable, I do suppose one could if one were properly prepared for the weather but you don’t appear as though you would enjoy it, especially because you always become agitated when you think it’s too cold at recess to use the slide or swing set because the cold steel hurts your hands. Unicorns do not exist-“

“Yes they do!” Brittany blurted, her eyes round with astonishment that someone would say otherwise. “And you better not say that too loud ‘cause some people say they’re like fairies, and every time someone doesn’t believe another one dies! That’s why they’re such a rare species,” she says to Santana in an explanatory undertone as Santana nods seriously.   
Rachel shook her head, continuing on even as her two listeners continued to buck her words.  
“They do not exist, not even as an extinct species, and polar bears and penguins are from differing regions. As are reindeer, I believe, and certainly reindeer don’t fly. There are also no such thing as elves, although some people are referred to as dwarfs they are actually people with genetic disorders of some kind. Also Santa Claus was a man, not a woman. At least the original concept and the historical figure of which the myth was based upon was a man. However, even if he were truly a woman in his basis you still couldn’t be her when you grew up because the story is simply that, a story. There never was a true Santa as we hear of today.”

Half of what Rachel had just explained to her had sailed over Santana’s head, much too complex and convoluted for her to even try to grasp. But she did get the gist of what the other child was telling her, and it was enough for her to point a scandalized finger at her, accusing, and respond to her heatedly.

“It is not! You’re just being dumb! I don’t ever listen to YOU, Rachel Berry, you only know stupid stuff that no one cares about! You don’t know anything about Santa Claus!”  
“I do so. I know that the story of Santa Claus is based upon the Saint Nicholas long ago, who would bring children toys, though not to the extravagant excess as is done by families now. The story became a legend continued to this day and perpetuated by the parents and guardians of children in modern times. Although now of course Christmas has become very commercialized and the image and myth of Santa makes considerable money and I do believe that is part of the reason that childhood belief and parent endorsement of Santa Claus has not yet faded along with other ancient traditions. Santa Claus is very much not real though, I assure you. It is all simply a story dating back from centuries ago.”

“No it isn’t,” Brittany repeated, and Santana’s anger rose when she saw that the other girl’s lip was sticking out, that her eyes were sad and anxious, her voice soft when she spoke. “Santa’s real, I know it. He’s really really real. Isn’t he, Santana?”

“Yes, he is! You’re just dumb, Rachel, and you’re wrong! Santa’s gonna give you a whole bunch of coal and I’m gonna take it and rub it all over that big nose of yours!” Santana threatened, slipping a protective arm around Brittany again and scowling in Rachel’s direction.

But even so Rachel still seemed rather unbothered. In fact, she started to get something of an attitude herself, drawing herself up to her full, if unimpressive height and jutting out her chin defensively.

“Just how would you manage that, Santana, if I was the one receiving coal rather than yourself? Which I will not be, because my parents will get me many nice things just as I am sure yours will. If you really believe in what you are saying and you think I am such a liar, then maybe you should simply look in your parents’ bedroom closet or under their bed or in the trunk of their car, and you will see. There will be presents there, presents for you, and your parents will have them, not Santa. Your parents are the ones who give you gifts. If you don’t believe me, just go see for yourself.”

“Liar! Liar, liar, pants on fire, Rachel Berry is a liarrrr with fire pants! There is fire coming out her butt, better watch out, she’s gonna burnnnn!”

Santana collapsed in giggles, pleased when Brittany laughed too. Soon other children who had overheard were also laughing at Rachel and pointing at her backside, as though seeing imaginary flames. Rachel backed away from the girls at last, seeming to finally get the message that she was unwanted, and Santana giggled even harder when she saw that the girl was casting a concerned glance at her backside. 

“It’s okay, Britt,” she assured the other little girl, whose eyebrows were still slightly furrowed from Rachel’s words. “That girl is just dumb, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. We know the truth about Santa.”

But as the day wore on, Rachel’s words to them wouldn’t quite leave her head, and eventually Santana found herself wondering…what if she were right?

88

When Santana came to school the next day, it was obvious that something had drastically changed in her demeanor. She almost stomped through the front door, small fists knotted at her sides, her dark curly hair bouncing wildly off her back and shoulders as she scanned the classroom, seeming to be looking for somebody or something.


End file.
